My junior school year was demented. Soiled pants, projectile vomit on the classroom door, explaining divorce, explaining God, a kid's fathers dying of a brain aneurysm- all things the average primary school teacher can handle.
A four year old singing a song by a cross dressing glam rocker (likely composed whilst high), about an alien invasion, being high, or the second coming of Christ- Dick, we have a problem.
Mrs. Cannon: What do you mean? You must know a nursery rhyme! It's something that your parents sing to you or taught you to sing. There might even be actions to it. Like incy wincy spider.
Me: Ok. I think I know one.
Didn't know what time it was the lights were low…
There's a starman waiting in the sky
He'd like to come and meet us
But he thinks he'll blow our minds
Mrs. Cannon's head explodes off her shoulders and onto the keypad of a phone, where she proceeded to dial my dad's number with her nose.
Alright I'll admit that isn't too bad and Mrs. Cannon was a conservative prune anyway. However, later on the same day, I don't think she was prepared for a five year old girl to declare during show and tell that her favourite TV shows were the X-files and Jerry Springer, then proceed to re-enact 'fish sex'.
Kaboom!
